


when none have gone before

by wearethewitches



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Children, F/M, Family, Illnesses, Marriage, Michael-centric, Mild Smut, Miscarriage, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek), The Red Angel - Freeform, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, USS Discovery (Star Trek), bootstrap paradoxes, michael is a top, my gift to the world, no betas we die like captain georgiou, too soon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 06:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: The Red Angel is not Michael Burnham.No.It is a woman called Mina Pike and she's her daughter.





	when none have gone before

The phase discriminators hold the Red Angel in place and Michael _can’t breathe._ Every lungful of air is empty of oxygen and her skin is on fire. But Michael watches as the EMP discharges, a dark-skinned woman falling out of the suit.

 _Is that me?_ She wonders, baffling at the long dreads with golden thread running through each and every one. _Why would I have my hair like that?_ The answer to her question comes sooner than she can even imagine as the woman looks up, the light from the containment field pulsing around them.

“You’re…not… _me_ ,” Michael rasps, adrenaline fading fast as blackness overtakes her.

Waking in sickbay is logical, but it still shocks her when she awakens with a gasp to Dr Culber, the Emperor and Captain Pike by her side.

“What- what-”

“Hey, hey,” Hugh takes her elbow, the physical contact grounding her as his easy voice does the calming. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“Welcome back, Commander,” Pike gives her a small smile as Hugh describes her injuries – toxic asphyxiation, being _dead_ for over a minute, being exposed to tachyon radiation – and Philippa answers her question: she’s been out for five hours.

“The Red Angel?” Michael asks, trying to remember what she saw. _Gold._ “It wasn’t me. But the bio-neural signature…”

“We have no idea who it is, but there are theories,” Hugh purses his lips, shaking his head. “When bringing time travel into the scenario, it gets easier to believe. Bio-neural signatures can be similar, especially between relatives and the mitochondrial DNA of mother and daughter…”

“What?” Michael questions. She’s confused, her insides are numb from some kind of pain-reliever, everything tingles and sickbay is _cold_ , even when it’s hotter than everywhere else on the ship.

“Michael,” Philippa interrupts, meeting her eyes. “We think she is your child.”

Michael sits back, stunned. Philippa is being honest – her wariness at the possible truth is all over her face. She looks to Hugh and Pike, her captain shying away in obvious agreement as Hugh quietly nods.

“Unless she’s your mother, or even grandmother, there’s no other solution.” He says, the last of Michael’s post-rest brain jumble sliding seamlessly into order. “She’s been unconscious down on Essof Four being taken care of, safe inside the containment field. We’ve been running scans, monitoring her health – she’s exhausted. We let her sleep.”

“I want to see her,” Michael immediately replies, though her physical body stays on the bed as she processes. She’s trying to imagine herself with a child, a _daughter._ Who would the father be? Not Ash. She doesn’t even know if he can have children anymore. How far from the future could her daughter be from? How many years will it be till she’s born?

“You’re still healing from radiation poisoning,” Hugh tells her, warding her off. “Another few hours, then you should be safe to travel down there again.”

Just then, Spock enters the sickbay.

“You woke – sooner than expected,” he says, staring at her. There’s something there that Michael recognises with a spark of inspiration, his stare too focussed and encompassing, the slight smile reminding her of Amanda – but she pushes it to the side, instead asking what he found. Spock tilts his head as he continues, “And I see you are yourself again.”

Michael nearly winces, looking away, not expecting him to keep on talking to her.

“The Red Angel has also awoken and she refuses to talk to anyone but ‘Commander Pike’,” Spock intones, amusement obvious. “I informed her that she must be mistaken, as Christopher Pike is a captain. Her rebuttal was intriguing.”

“What, Spock?” Michael asks, already annoyed at how he’s drawing everything out.

Spock smirks. “She recited todays date in three separate calendars, then asked for her mother: Michael.”

“Wait, she wanted to see me _and_ Michael?” Pike questions on behalf of everyone in the group.

Spock shakes his head shortly, before moving onto his next topic of consideration. Michael listens to his explanation with half an ear, still caught on her brother’s non-answer. Therefore, when Spock mentions her own mother, she very quickly tunes into the conversation, blurting out a confused _what?_

“As I was saying – Ensign Tilly downloaded the video logs. There are eight hundred and forty-one. However, the video logs are of Gabrielle Burnham, _not_ our mysterious Red Angel, implying that at one time, your mother was in possession of the time-suit.”

“But- but she _died_ , Spock,” Michael says, heart wrenching. “No – no, that can’t be true. _How_ could that be true? Why didn’t she come back to me?”

“You may watch the logs and find out her fate,” Spock intones, holding out a small data-pad. “Or you may interrogate your daughter, instead.”

Michael hesitates.

“Go,” Philippa tells her, encouraging, “watch the videos. I shall attempt to get your daughter to talk.”

“Thank-you,” Michael breathes, taking the data-pad and watching as the Emperor – Philippa, the Mirror of Captain Georgiou, her mother from another universe – walks out with Captain Pike by her side.

* * *

The first thing she notices about her pseudo-granddaughter when she gets up close is that she’s wearing what can only be Starfleet uniform, dark and grey as it is. There are tiny decals on the shoulders in the shape of their damn emblem and lighter patches half-obscured by her hair detail her rank of Commander.

Philippa makes a guess that she hopes is wrong.

“Is it Commander Burnham or Commander Pike?” she asks, watches as her eyes snap open, widening at the sight of her. “You weren’t very subtle, girl. Commander Pike doesn’t exist yet.”

“Yet,” the woman repeats, pushing off the chair Michael had sat in, _screamed_ in, stepping towards the force-field. “ _San-kuk_ told me I ensure my own birth. Now I know how, I think.”

“Well done, you broke a cardinal rule of time travel,” Philippa replies sarcastically, still remembering Michael’s flatline heartbeat. _San-kuk_ , she recalls from her recent studies in Vuhlkansu, means _uncle._ In her mind, Philippa tuts the elder Spock. _Naughty, naughty hybrid._

“It was always a bootstrap paradox,” the woman replies, coming to stand in front of her. “All things considered, it’s nice to see you again, _Opah._ ”

For all her confidence and the short warning that her pseudo-granddaughter gave her about calling family members their titles in other languages, Philippa is still struck dumb by hearing the woman call her _grandmother_ in Malay. It’s her luck, too, that said granddaughter catches it, smile unfamiliar.

“I never get to surprise you. You’re too all-knowing in the future – and it’s Commander Pike,” the woman confirms. “Mina Brielle Pike. I’m a Commander on the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ under the authority of Captain Saavik as her Chief Science Officer.”

“Should you be telling us all this?”

Mina Pike shrugs, her braids falling over her shoulders. “Probably not. However, I need to get back to the past. You aren’t going to be able to hold the suit here indefinitely and I don’t want to get stuck here, no matter the company.”

“The past?” Philippa queries.

“A safety measure,” Mina answers. “The Sphere data can’t be deleted or destroyed, after all. In other timelines, Control or Control as Leland have tried to take the Sphere data you transfer into it and my present isn’t too far away – he’s tried it in either timeline, before.”

Philippa really tries to absorb this, but unfortunately, she’s stuck on the part about Leland.

_‘Control as Leland’ **what**?_

* * *

When Michael enters the ready room, she’s still trying to accept the fact that her mother had never come to visit her, even for a moment. Separating Control and the Sphere data is crucial – so crucial that her mother sacrificed her life with Michael to protect the universe. Michael wants to accept it, she really does, but it’s hard when she doesn’t know the end to the story. Why did the recordings stop? How did her daughter get ahold of the suit? What is her daughter doing here, directly interacting with her mother and potentially making choices that erase her entire existence?

 _Then again,_ Michael thinks to herself as she realises all eyes are on her, _her actions could lead to her birth in the first place. Bootstrap paradox._

“What’s going on?” she asks, Pike staring at her with a strange expression.

“Agent Georgiou talked to Mina Pike,” Ash tells her, voice low and slightly strangled as he says the time traveller’s name. For a moment, Michael thinks about congratulating her captain, except then of course, her brain screeches to a halt because _that is **my** daughter_.

Michael looks at Captain Pike with wide eyes. “ _Pike?_ ” she hisses, the man clearing his throat slightly as he smiles awkwardly.

“Pike,” he confirms, looking away from her. Michael is dumbfounded. Spock is less shocked.

“She _did_ ask for Commander Pike,” he says, the bastard. “She was clearly referring to _you_ , Michael,”

“Clearly?” Michael repeats. “Spock, apparently I’m going to have a child with my commanding officer-”

“Her fate and existence are sealed,” Spock interrupts. “It is understandable that this comes at a shock to you, Michael, but her presence here is a true indicator that it happens. There is no changing that. Also, I would like to add that you seem to marry him for a length of time appropriate enough that your daughter would not recall your maiden name.”

Her cheeks burn. Embarrassment swirls in her gut. It’s different from when she was a mutineer and much more similar to discovering that both Georgiou’s view her as daughter-figures, yet far less painful and far _more_ discomforting. _I’m going to marry my captain and everyone knows._

“That all said,” Saru gently interrupts, “you have missed much, Michael. Control apparently has a method of taking control of ones body permanently and Captain Leland is it’s unfortunate first victim, if he isn’t already.”

“What? How?” Her gaze snaps between each of the men in the ready room – she is the only woman there.

“Nanobites,” Ash answers. “Leland might already be infected. Commander Pike told us that the Sphere Data can’t be deleted or destroyed, either and Saru proved it – it won’t let us delete it. Commander Pike wants to upload it all into the time-suit and hide it away some-when that no-one can find it in.”

“Is the suit even capable of that? And how would she get home afterwards?” Michael asks, noticing Pike stir slightly at her latter query. “What did you say her name was?”

“Mina,” Pike – Captain Pike, Christopher, _her future husband and father of her child_ – says quietly, reverently. “It’s a derivate of my mother’s name. Mina Brielle.”

Michael’s heart pounds. “Both of our mother’s names.”

Pike smiles at her, then, the two of them sharing a heady moment over the thought of honouring their most beloved.

“…the time-suit, according to Dr Stamets,” Saru coughs, “has almost limitless quantum computational power. In other words-”

“Infinite storage,” Michael finishes. “More than enough room to store the Sphere data.”

“Let’s get to it, then. Saru, you’re in charge. Get that data transferred.” Pike nods, before looking to Michael. “Commander Burnham…I was going to take a trip down to meet her. Would you like to accompany me?”

Michael says “Yes, Captain,” without even thinking about it – but her eyes catch how Ash looks away as she turns to leave.

Walking the halls of _Discovery_ with Pike towards the transporter rooms doesn’t take much time, but it’s enough to make her jittery. Before they enter the room, he puts his hand up to stay her, calling her name.

“Burnham,” he says, stopping them both. “I- I’d like to say, I think you’re a great asset to Starfleet and a brilliant person besides. I’d like to hope that this future knowledge won’t effect our working relationship.”

Michael looks at his arm, still slightly raised to slow her. Feeling bold – knowing that it’s coming, knowing that she wants it to be _good_ if it’s definite – she takes it, startling him as she squeezes his hand.

“You’re a good captain and a better man. You won’t be on _Discovery_ forever.”

Pike smiles slightly, abashed. “No, I won’t.” _He_ is the one to be bold, then, lifting her hand to his lips as he bends his back, kissing her knuckles like some old knight of yore. “To the future, Commander Burnham.”

“Call me Michael,” she implores.

He winks, hand falling. “Call _me_ Chris.”

“Of course, Christopher,” Michael smiles, eyes flashing as he chuckles. Less nervous and more at ease, Michael enters the transporter room, her captain by her side. They beam down, walking the short distance to where Mina is under the dome, talking avidly to Philippa.

“-and then he tried to beg for asylum, but by then, he’d offended literally everyone in the room and Mother couldn’t stop laughing,” Mina grins. “Dad was just staring with his eyebrows raised, like he couldn’t believe what was going on.”

“In my universe, I sliced Mudd’s head off,” Philippa scoffs, folding her arms. “ _Humans_.”

“ _Terrans_ ,” Mina mocks in the same tone of voice, before Chris and Michael join them – Chris glancing at Philippa in interest.

“Terran?”

Philippa looks over him appraisingly, before glancing at Michael. “Every version of you I’ve ever met seems to have a _thing_ for _captains_.”

Michael doesn’t quite bristle, but it’s a close thing. “What were you talking about?” she asks, ignoring Chris’ querying look at the jab. Michael refuses to think about her Mirror self with Lorca.

“Harcourt Mudd’s televised trial in front of the conjoined Federation-Klingon Empire Council,” Mina chirps. “It was funny. _Opah_ cut off his head in the other universe.”

“Extreme,” Michael comments lightly.

Philippa grumbles. “He was an annoyance and a traitor to both sides.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Chris interrupts, “Any chance of talking about anything else? You, perhaps?” He gestures to Mina, who steps closer to the barrier, drinking in the sight of him.

“I’ve not seen you like this before” she mutters. “God, you’re so young.”

“I’m really not.”

“But you are,” Mina replies. “You’re actually clean-shaven.”

“ _Clean-shaven?_ ” Chris repeats, slightly incredulous. “I grow my beard out?”

“Well, yeah,” their daughter says, before slowing down and backing up. She doesn’t fidget, but she does automatically go into parade rest. “I should probably stop that. Too many paradoxes.”

Michael tries to imagine her captain with a beard and comes up blank. She assumes it’s better than the one Spock is sporting. “Probably,” she advises, drawing attention to herself.

“…hello, _ko-mekh_.”

A vice around Michael’s chest tightens, squeezing all the air out of her lungs. “ _Ko-fu_. It’s…it was unexpected. Meeting you, that is.”

“Unexpected is my middle name,” Mina replies, lip twitching.

“When are you born?” Chris questions. “Is it soon?”

“I know I got the time you got married wrong. It’s always been complicated,” she says instead, apologetic. “I shouldn’t say anything more than that. It’s not too far off, but far enough you shouldn’t worry about it. Just…live. Be captain and commander on _Discovery_. By the time I’m in the picture, there’s been a new captain for a while.”

The vice disappears.

* * *

_A while_ can mean anything, in retrospect. _A while_ can mean a few weeks – _a while_ can mean a decade. Her daughter tells her about the paradoxical loop she found herself in, her grandmother time travelling to her future as a child and keeping the time-suit in good repair as she grew. Gabrielle waited for the day a grown Mina could wear it and tell her when exactly to arrive in the first place and to take over her work to save the Sphere data.

 _She’ll come in a while,_ Mina promises her mother. _When Leland’s out of the picture, she’ll come._

Mina says goodbye soon after, blowing a kiss using the _ta’al_ as she steps back into the time-suit and takes the Sphere data away, out of time and out of reach.

Michael doesn’t expect Leland to infect the entirety of Section 31’s star-ships, though. Leland has learnt enough from the Section 31 badges on Ash and Philippa’s lapels, using them as listening devices when they stopped updating him on the condition of _Discovery_ and the Red Angel. Chris admits it to him over a holo-call on deck that they know Control has taken him over.

It’s a gamble to say they know when it might not have happened yet. It pays off though, as Control admits they’re right. Only when he continues to speak and monologue, do they know they’re screwed.

“ _Time is fluid, though. I’m sure it’ll correct itself in the form of Gabrielle Burnham if I kill Mina Pike’s progenitors before she’s even conceived_.”

Chris shouts, “Raise shields! Black Alert – Stamets, get us out of here!”

They go on Black Alert, warping away and contacting Starfleet. They rendezvous with the _Enterprise_ a few hours later and it’s a bright spot in their dark present when Michael gets to watch Chris tell Number One who the Red Angel was.

“It can’t be that bad, Captain,” Number One says, clearly amused by his shuffling and procrastinating. Chris looks to Spock, then Michael, the only ones to accompany him aboard his other command ship, as if either of them will willingly release him from his suffering. At their identical smirks, he turns back to Number One and mumbles. Number One tilts her head slightly, amused smile firmly in place.

“What was that, Captain?”

“The Red Angel was my daughter from the future,” Chris repeats loudly, the bridge crew of the _Enterprise_ all able to hear what was said. He sighs to himself, before swinging his arm around to motion to Michael, who straightens in alarm. She has no time to glare in a way that says _don’t you dare,_ because he’s already speaking.

“And this is Michael Burnham, Commander on the _Discovery_ and my future wife. She’s also Spock’s sister, so be nice, everyone.”

Someone whistles lowly, impressed and Michael lifts her chin, letting that glare settle on Chris, who only smiles at her.

Number One tuts. “That was rude of you, Captain. Why, I’d think you didn’t respect her at all.”

Chris jumps to attention, spinning around to face her again, talking in defiance of her words. “Of course I respect her, Number One. Michael is brilliant and devoted and deserves a hell of a lot better than me-”

“Sir-” Michael tries to deny that part, but he boulders onwards.

 “-and I sure as hell hope I can make it up to her about how we’re going to be forced together like this,” he says, flexing his fists as he glares at the floor. “I do not need any more time travel in my life.”

Michael sees him in the ready room on _Discovery_ a few hours later again, after they’ve jumped away from _Enterprise_ , who’ll lead Leland to the finish line. They have eleven hours to figure out a way to defeat him – news is already pouring in about Starfleet vessels going up against Section 31 ships. Leland’s army won’t be as big as he thinks, when he finally catches up to them.

“We don’t know about the crew,” Chris says, looking over one of said reports. Michael glances at it backwards, seeing the estimated tally of the dead. “It could just be the ships.”

“We can’t take any chances,” Michael assures him from across the table, hands behind her back. “I talked to Tyler,” she reveals. “He said that the Section Thirty-One agents would rather they died than let Control take over. It’s why Section Thirty-One exists.”

“We’ll mourn all of them,” he says, looking at her for the first time. His eyes are dark, laden with grief. “What happens if we die without having her? Having that future?”

Michael shifts. “I don’t know, sir. It may be like how Leland said – my mother remaining the Red Angel as Mina’s existence unravels and time corrects itself.”

“I’ve always put off having children,” he tells her. “Though, my mother was always very sure she’d be having grandbabies.”

“Don’t bet on more than one,” Michael warns teasingly, but it gets her thinking about her own wants and wishes. “I never thought about it. I always presumed my emotional distance from humans and the unlikelihood of another Vulcan-Human hybrid took me out of the ring when it came to family. I’ve always been so wrapped up in my parents’ deaths- my- my _father’s_ death,” she corrects herself in a whisper, “and my mother’s absence, that I never thought of the future.”

“Well, we’re heading towards it at warp-speed, now,” Chris replies, getting a small chuckle out of the both of them before a comfortable silence falls. “You know, I rather doubt I’ll be going back to the _Enterprise_ as captain very soon. Admiral Cornwall seems to like how we work as a team. I agree. Mina won’t be born for some time, I’d guess.”

Michael catches on remarkably quickly, eyebrow rising. “Are you asking…”

Chris shrugs embarrassedly. “Only if you want to. It’s just, with the fight coming…”

Leland’s words reverberate through her. _Time is fluid. I’m sure it’ll correct itself in the form of Gabrielle Burnham if I kill Mina Pike’s progenitors before she’s even conceived._ Michael can’t help but believe it’ll happen, despite her hope. Chris has made it clear that Mina’s conception could be years off – that he’ll be staying the captain of _Discovery_ if it meant putting off their future.

 _What if she was conceived here and now, instead?_ Michael asks herself. _Can we even change it? Or is this another bootstrap paradox, where events are caused by a continuous cycle of the same two instances of revealed future knowledge?_

Chris takes her silence as a negative, clearly, standing. “I apologise. I should never have asked that of you, not when the possibility-”

“Yes,” Michael says. Chris falls silent. “Mina was unsure of everything she said in relation to her own birth and our relationship. It could be a genuine mistake, or the result of the different timelines that she’s affecting – direct side-effects from manipulating the time stream on the traveller could be vast. There could be dozens of potential futures in her head.”

“So…” Chris moves around the desk, “You’re saying yes because you want to conceive her tonight?”

“No. Time is in a constant state of flux, but certain things seem to be clear,” Michael replies, stepping closer to him. “We’re going to get married, Christopher. We’re going to spend what looked like nearly three decades together, if my judgement of her age was sound. I want to be on good terms with you.”

 _I want to love you,_ is what she doesn’t say. Their situation is unique and unexpected and as Chris takes her hand, he seems to understand that. He presses it to his chest, against his heart and Michael reaches up with her spare, taking his clean-shaven chin – _he’s going to grow it out in the future_ – and guiding him to her face.

They kiss and it’s quiet.

When Michael leans back, Chris’ eyes flutter open and they’re drifting towards each other.

“Computer,” he orders, “lock the door. Mute the sounds. Inform me if anyone asks for either of us and divert any diverted calls back to Saru.”

“ _Door sealed._ ”

Michael’s heart races and they kiss again. It’s more than the first, her hand dragging across his chest – down, down, down. The kiss turns heated, gasps coming from either of them and Michael presses him against the desk, letting him fiddle with her zipper for a few seconds before stepping back.

“To a more comfortable surface?” she questions, the two of them wandering over to a sofa – newly installed for extra seating off to the side – and divesting themselves of clothes. They kiss again and Michael is the one sitting across his lap when they come together, hands running down his chiselled abdomen.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, eyes closing as he groans. “Have you done this before?”

“Not with someone I know,” Michael arcs. “ _Oh._ ”

“I’m honoured,” he draws her down against him, lips hot against her shoulder, surely bruising her skin. If her dark skin isn’t blooming with hickeys this time tomorrow, Michael thinks she’ll be disappointed.

They nearly get cut short when the Computer interrupts to tell them there’s major trouble in engineering, but Michael has him it redirect it to Spock on account of the mathematics involved.

“You’ll be no use there, Captain – no offence meant.”

“Full offence taken, Commander,” Chris drags his hand between her legs and Michael _moans_.

 _No way to explain this if anyone asks,_ Michael thinks when they’re done, the room smelling like sex and their appearances more than ruffled. Chris looks upwards, squinting.

“There’s a Jefferies tube, I think. You could escape that way.”

“Or we could tidy up in your bathroom,” Michael advises upon spotting it. The air circulation is making the smell dissipate, but she knows not even fixing their appearances in front of a mirror could explain away the time spent together in the ready room. Everyone saw her enter. No-one has seen her leave yet.

“We’ll both be doing the walk of shame,” Chris reminds her. “I’m technically still on shift.”

“How unprofessional of you,” Michael smiles. He smiles back.

She has to say – it’s nice being the recipient of that smile.

* * *

There is a time crystal on Boreth. Chris returns to _Discovery_ and he is unusually solemn.

“Captain, what happened?” Owosekun questions, worried. Detmer, Rhys, Bryce, Nhan and Nilsson all look at him with the same worry, while Michael and Saru exchanged a fear-filled glance.

“The time crystal lets you see your future,” he says, still staring into space. He stirs enough to glance at Michael. “I saw mine.”

“What was it like?” Michael asks.

Chris smiles at her. “I’m betting on more than just the one,” he replies and it takes Michael a second to remember her quip, in answer to his mother’s dreams of grandchildren. A startled laugh escapes her mouth.

“Really?” she asks, an unusual giddiness expanding throughout her chest.

“We’ll have to see, I suppose. Time is in flux, or so I’ve been told,” Chris replies easily, winking before he describes the new weapons system to Rhys. Michael listens carefully, too, hoping that it works – that there’s enough power from the spore drive to charge what Jett Reno is calling a Time Spin.

Using the crystal and their graviton beam emitters combined, the hope is that the Time Spin will turn back the clock on the ship – that everything inside the target will rewind until Control is no longer infecting Leland or his ship, removing Control from their current state of existence.

Then, they blow the ship to hell and back. Chris doesn’t even deny it when Philippa points out they’d be killing everyone on board, post-disinfection.

The _Enterprise_ arrives. One hour behind them is Control and its small army of Section 31 ships.

* * *

The battle is won.

The Section 31 ships are all destroyed.

Control is gone.

When the Time Spin was deployed, Leland remembered the future he had physically no longer been part of – and Control did not. Stamets conjectures later that it’s the organic state versus mechanical that lets Leland press his own self-destruct, Control flailing at the sudden change and unable to stop it – human matter is harder to manipulate than technology.

“ _Get yourselves to the nearest starbase,_ ” Admiral Cornwall orders over holo-call. “ _Both ships can go into repairs. I’m officially granting each of your crews six months shore leave_ _to process, after the reports have gone through _. Do with that what you will.__ ”

“Thank-you, Admiral,” Chris says, before the call ends and he announces it to his crew on _Discovery_ – Number One doing the same thing for _Enterprise._

The starbase they end up going to is large and crowded, full of civilians and hardly any Starfleet personnel. Michael revels in the anonymity, until Chris walks up to her and slides an arm around her waist.

“That is forwards of you,” she says, amused. She tugs him closer when he attempts to untangle himself, suspecting an error. “I don’t mind forwards.”

“Good,” he replies, before they book a hotel room to themselves for the week, sleeping instead of having sex – talking instead of seducing each other. They know they’re in this for the long haul. They want to have a proper relationship.

Michael learns how he grew up on Earth in Mojave with two horses called Tango and Mary-Lou, three sisters called Elizabeth, Petronella and Theodora, a brother called Bernard and five parents. He has two mothers, ‘Willa’ and Naiche and three fathers, Romano, David and Pritchard – a big family, in other words.

“Like you can talk,” he laughs, cajoling her into naming all the parents she’s ever had in her life – including Georgiou twice, once for each universe.

“I only have _two_ siblings, though,” Michael points out. “Spock and Sybok. You have four.”

Chris shrugs, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before asking who the hell is Sybok.

* * *

On month five into their shore leave, Chris is told that he’ll be returning to the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ for good. Michael is in the bathroom doorway of their hotel apartment that’s paid for on Starfleet’s dime, watching when he gets the message, asking him to take on the Red Signal case from the seat of his true ship. The devastation on his face is clearly apparent.

“At- at least Saru will be captain,” he says, struggling. Michael walks over and runs a hand through his hair, pushing his perfect fringe out of place. Chris looks up at her solemnly. “We’re not going to see each other for a while.”

“We still have time,” Michael murmurs, kissing his forehead.

“Marry me,” he asks her, “while our crews are still on shore leave together. Your parents are supposed to come see you and Spock both next week. Let’s make a party of it.”

“It’s too fast, Christopher – I can’t, not yet.”

Chris reaches up, stroking the end of her nose. “Are you sure?”

Michael hesitates before speaking. “No,” she admits, “but I don’t want to rush this. Even if Mina ends up being born first, I don’t want to rush this; and- and marrying you…”

“She could be a flower-girl,” Chris’ lip twitches like he knows something, clearing sidestepping Michael’s unfinished sentence. _Marrying you would make this real,_ she wants to say.

“What did you see in the time crystal?” Michael instead asks him for what seems like the hundredth time.

“Our family. Some little ones. We were happy,” he answers teasingly, putting down his data-pad and turning to face her properly. “Stop asking, Michael. I’ll tell you my visions as they happen over the years.”

“Do you swear?”

“I swear,” he lays a hand on his heart, before she kisses him gently, dragging his lip with her teeth. “That feels like an invitation,” he mumbles.

“It is,” Michael breathes. She thinks to herself that it isn’t the right time – she hasn’t had her yearly shot from Starfleet medical, a precaution she usually clings to – but there are other ways to prevent a pregnancy that they can use. Chris is on a male contraceptive, too, taken in a shot like her own.

 _I should probably take my own worries more seriously,_ she thinks as they copulate for the first time since Control was still around, her thoughts drowned out by pleasure and want. It’s just this one time, though.

It’s just _this_ one time, though.

* * *

Hugh sits across from her in the clandestine peace of his office, arms folded across his chest.

“You’re on active duty,” he says.

“I know.”

“You’re on the Bridge staff,” he says, voice cracking.

“I know,” Michael repeats.

“You are infamous galaxy-wide and a danger-magnet and _pregnant_ , Commander Burnham,” Hugh glares. “How long are you going to stay on _Discovery_?”

Michael shifts on her seat, hands folded on her lap. “Until it’s a detriment to my work and the work of others.”

Hugh makes a face. “I sometimes wish I weren’t surrounded by genii.”

“I can take care of myself,” Michael assures him. He graces her with a quick smile.

“I know. You’re the first case of pregnancy I’ve ever had on board _Discovery,_ though. I need to resupply sickbay appropriately. My mind is running in many different directions. Have you told Captain Pike?”

“Not yet,” Michael winces.

“You should,” Hugh points out. “It’d be useful to have access to his medical information, to watch out for anything that might crop up and he’s basically your husband.”

“Not yet,” Michael repeats, shaking her head. “We aren’t married yet.”

“You basically are,” Hugh argues. “Ever since you found out, it’s been the future, your reality. He’s your husband, Michael.”

Michael clears her throat, changing the subject. “How long before I’m out of the danger zone?”

“You’re less than two months in,” Hugh describes the situation to her. “The first trimester ends at twelve weeks, or three months. Do you have a date of conception?”

“Yes,” Michael informs him, happy for their shared professionalism and stoicism when talking about her sex life. Hugh is capable and Michael trusts him. They talk about other things, like dietary requirements and the nutritional supplements he’ll be forcing on her as soon as they restock. At the end of their session, Hugh takes another moment to remind her about telling Chris.

“I’ll tell him,” she promises.

Michael does not tell him.

Working on the bridge, Michael works her ass off. Saru is Captain and he is a good one, keeping to Starfleet’s moral guidelines and laws. The U.S.S. _Discovery_ becomes what it was meant to be – a science vessel. The Red Signals don’t make any more appearances and _Discovery_ roams the galaxy using the spore drive, undertaking scientific endeavours and answering calls from Starfleet when they’re needed.

“I don’t like this,” Hugh mutters when he checks up on her prior to an upcoming Black Alert. Paul is still planet-side taking samples and an order has come in for them to go to Althos IV, home of the Bzzit Khaht, to assist in the transportation of volatile materials that would otherwise _definitely_ be attacked by raiders on a normal Starship.

“What don’t you like?” Michael asks, assuming it’s to do with his husband.

“This,” Hugh taps her belly with his stethoscope, surprising her. “I was double-checking manually, in case of a mistake. There’s signs of multiples. Your chances of miscarriage just went up, Commander Burnham.”

Michael stomach flip-flops. “Twins?”

“There are two heartbeats,” Hugh tells her with a congratulatory expression, throwing a copy of the data from his tricorder to her data-pad on the bed. Oh-so casually, he then asks, “What does Captain Pike think of all this?”

Michael shakes her head, to his disappointment. “He doesn’t know yet. What now?”

“Now, I officially pronounce you banned from using transporters or going into live-combat scenarios,” Hugh says cheerily, as if the news doesn’t turn her ashen. “I’d also recommend as your doctor to inform your fellow officers and Captain Saru, so they can better accommodate your needs.”

“I don’t want to tell anyone,” Michael tells him, almost pleading. Hugh takes her hands as she leans forwards, shoulders sagging.

“This won’t go away, Michael. Not unless you want it to.”

“You said I could miscarry.”

“Any woman can miscarry. You don’t have a family history, though I haven’t been able to contact Christopher Pike’s gene mother for answers about her family, either. With twins, your chances are higher – which is why you should tell your friends and family, Michael. If something happens, you’ll need emotional support.”

“What about Mina?” Michael asks in a whisper.

“Mina could be any child you have, Commander. She could be in your belly right now – or she could be conceived in ten years. You have time.” Hugh grips her hands tightly. “You need to be strong, now.”

Michael sucks in a breath, nodding. “O-okay,” she says.

Hugh squeezes a little harder, before letting go. “Alright. I’d recommend telling Saru and Ensign Tilly, first – Saru, because he’s the captain and Tilly, because she’s your roommate and your first port of call in case anything goes wrong when you’re off-duty.”

“Thank-you,” Michael says, before the door pings. Hugh moves away, unlocking it to reveal one of his new intern nurses.

“Dr Culber, there’s been an incident on the planet,” she says nervously. “Dr Stamets is in the process of having multiple bones in his wrist and hand regenerated. Pollard is asking for you to come and tell him to shut up.”

Hugh’s face clouds like a thunderstorm. “Thank-you, Pyeong. I’ll be along in a moment.”

“I’ll leave,” Michael slips off the bed, hand pressing to her stomach. _Let’s hope Pyeong has been inducted into the Secret-keepers of Sickbay rather than the other gossip circles._

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t mention anything,” Hugh says with a shared nod as she leaves, data-pad in hand.

Tilly, of course, is ecstatic and worried. She speaks at fifty miles an hour, babbling and telling Michael about her nephew and how she absolutely will _not_ be babysitting the Mini-Pike, no matter how much she gets paid.

“Mini Pike’s, plural,” Michael interrupts her, amused. Tilly stares and Michael gets the chance to ask her to keep it to herself. “I’ve not even told Chris, yet,” she implores and her friend immediately swears herself to secrecy, offering her pinkie. They link fingers and Tilly whispers to her.

“What are you going to call them? Mina never mentioned she was a twin.”

“We’ll see how it transpires,” Michael replies, not realising how much she’d bottled up the situation. She’s excited and terrified, thinking about the long break from Starfleet this is going to require. Will she settle on Vulcan? Earth? A starbase? Michael has no idea. To her surprise, much of her decisions are put on hold in her mind, because she’s waiting for Chris’ input.

 _It’s his child as well,_ Michael thinks when she returns to the bridge, composing herself as much as she can. Saru is in the ready room and she enters, bypassing her station and the crew. He’s at the end of his discussion with the Bzzit Khaht ambassador and at the sight of her, offers a silent _wait_.

So Michael waits, arms stuck behind her back, the data-pad a brick in her hands. Hugh had the computer adjust her uniform specifications last week and she wonders if she looks different – in the mirror, Michael can see it like a balloon under her clothes, but what about everyone else?

The call finishes. “Michael,” Saru greets, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Michael breathes in deeply. “I…” she trails off, unable to say it. Saru waits patiently, though his brow furrows in worry after the silence stretches out.

“Michael?”

Saru is her friend. _Saru is my friend_ , she thinks, even though he is her captain, now. He could make her leave _Discovery_ , if he wanted to – he might send a profuse congratulations to Christoper.

“Michael,” Saru repeats, coming out from behind the desk, towering over her as he always does. It’s comforting – his worry is _comforting_. Michael smiles tremulously.

_Saru is my friend._

“I’m pregnant,” she says, watching his eyes go wide.

“ _Michael,_ ” he breathes in awe, hands coming up in a cross in front of his face. “Blessings on you. Oh, but Michael, this is _wonderful._ How long until-”

“Seven months and a week, by Dr Culber’s calculations. I’m carrying twins, so he expects a premature birth.”

“And the father?” Saru asks. “It is Captain Pike, is it not?”

Michael inclines her head, a smile slipping onto her face. “It is,” she confirms, before biting the inside of her lip. “Saru, I’ve not told him yet. The only people who know are you, Tilly and Dr Culber.”

Saru’s happy expression falls, as she expected it would. “Why are you keeping such news from him, Michael? Don’t you wish him to know?”

“I do, but I…it makes it all real, Saru,” Michael says, ashamed. “I’m in a relationship with this man. We’ve been sending each other log-vids and messages and spent eight months trying to get to know each other in the time we had to ourselves. Spock has thankfully declined to tell our parents, but Christopher told his parents he’s courting me. _Courting me_ , Saru – and I can’t even tell him he’s going to be a father.”

“Oh, my friend…” Saru puts a hand on her shoulder. “I can only advise you to tell him as soon as possible. When did you discover you were carrying twins?”

“Today,” Michael tells him. “I just finished telling Tilly.”

Saru nods, removing his hand and standing straight. “I offer you the use of my ready-room, Commander, to use to contact Captain Pike directly.”

“The gesture is appreciated, Saru,” Michael says, eyeing the computer screen like it’s a bomb about to go off. Her apprehension is exacerbated by pregnancy hormones, she’s aware, so she doesn’t say much more as Saru leaves, the doors sliding closed behind him.

 _Chris will be sad he can’t be here to see me in person,_ Michael thinks as she shuffles behind the desk, seating herself on the very edge of the seat.

“Computer, call Captain Pike on the U.S.S. _Enterprise,_ ” she instructs in a clear voice.

“ _Calling Captain Pike,_ ” the computer says, the screen shifting to make room for a log-screen. Michael’s anxiety rackets upwards, but it abruptly flees at the sight of Number One.

“ _Commander Burnham,_ ” she greets. “ _Captain Pike is planetside at the moment. He’ll be sorry he missed you._ ”

“Oh,” Michael murmurs. “Right. Thank-you, Number One.”

“ _Would you like me to pass on a message?_ ”

“…no,” Michael clears her throat, straightening in her seat. “No, that won’t be necessary, thank-you, Number One. When is he off shift tomorrow, do you know?”

“ _Chris will be available at the end of Gamma shift and during Alpha shift, Commander._ ” Number One informs her graciously, shifting on the other end of the connection as she asks, “ _What were you going to tell him?_ ”

Michael’s throat closes up. “Thank-you again, Number One,” she says, before hanging up the call abruptly. She exits the ready room and beelines to her station, ignoring Saru’s hesitant expression that says he wants to ask a question.

“Will we be extending help to the Bzzit Khaht?” she asks him, instead. For a moment, Saru is silent before he nods.

“We will. The ambassador is in the process of transferring the paperwork to _Discovery…_ ”

* * *

Michael is unavailable during Alpha and Gamma shift the next day. Neither does she open the waiting message and log-vids from Christopher in her inbox, putting it off for a whole two and a half weeks before Saru summons her to his ready room. Michael doesn’t want to go, already taking a sick day. She has a low-grade fever, her stomach is twisting and if Hugh hadn’t already tagged her with a monitor earlier that day, she would have been more worried. Michael goes to the ready room.

Chris is on the screen.

“ _Michael,_ ” he lets out a relieved breath, his image set in the wall. “ _You’re alright._ ”

“I am – what is this?” Michael looks to Saru, who looks far from abashed. No, he looks _determined_ and a determined Saru is not the type of Saru Michael likes dealing with when he is clearly doing something for her benefit without her permission.

“Captain Pike expressed his unease to me that you had not contacted him and given the circumstances, I thought it beneficial to arrange a meeting. You were not able to contact him after the Bzzit Khaht endeavour, after all.”

“ _What’s going on, Michael?_ ” Chris asks her. “ _Saru said it’s worrying him._ ”

“It is,” Saru says. Michael glares at him, ignoring how the planet through the window looks blurry and indistinct.

“Are you my friend or my captain right now? Because if you’re my friend, I wish to take this call _alone_.”

“I am both, Commander Burnham and it is a thin line I tread,” Saru replies boldly. “Would you rather Dr Culber be here as a third party?”

“I don’t _need_ a third party,” Michael snaps, irritated and tired. “This isn’t anything to do with Starfleet.”

“ _Then what is it, Burnham?_ ” Chris questions from the screen. Michael recognises the expression on his face – the same as when he saw his orders to return to _Enterprise._ He clears his throat. “ _Have I done something wrong?_ ”

“No – no, Christopher,” Michael murmurs, shaking her head and taking a step forwards. Her hand grazes the wall, underneath the flickering image of his torso. “Nothing at all. It’s me. I’m…we…”

“ _Would_ you rather Dr Culber was here?” Saru asks her, tentative.

“A little too late to be asking me that, Saru. Your intervention is over.”

“It’s not a completed intervention until you tell Captain Pike the truth,” he replies.

“ _Tell me what?_ ”

Her stomach writhes. Butterflies are trapped in her chest and there’s an ache in her back that has been bothering her all day, on top of her illness. Michael wants to tell him about her pregnancy, but she doesn’t have the words. She doesn’t have the strength of will right now.

What if all of this is false? What if their relationship is based on a supposition? What, what, what – Michael presses a hand to her throbbing forehead. She feels sick and it’s separate from her anxiety. Underneath her palm, her forehead is sweltering from the fever and she recognises that something is deeply wrong, swallowing her discomfort as she calls for her friend.

“Saru…” she mumbles, before there’s a sharp swirling in her gut like her insides are being stirred by a hot poker. Cramps – but harder, more painful than she’s had before. She hisses in pain, already moving towards the door.

“ _Michael? Michael-_ ”

Chris calls for her, but everything is underwater. Saru catches her when she trips over her own feet, the doors sliding open as he drags her up into his arms, barking out orders to the bridge crew. She hears Dr Culber’s name and her own name being called, the lights of the turbolift taking them down to sickbay comforting and alarming at the same time.

Delirious from pain, Michael asks for Chris. She asks for Chris, Spock and her mothers, but it’s red hair over her shoulder – Tilly is sitting with her as she sleeps, crying and bleeding.

In her second trimester at a precious thirteen weeks, her miscarriage is a relatively quick, but brutal labour, set over the course of five hours. She knows what’s happening and it’s awful, physically and emotionally. There’s no sure way to describe it and Michael is sure that when the pain fades, her grief will be the most debilitating, even if the biological aspect of it is consuming her now. Hugh puts her on pain medication when day turns to night, taking a blood sample to analyse.

“Khaht-C Fever,” Hugh pronounces after running tests, crestfallen. “You must have picked it up when were helping the Bzzit Khaht on Althos Four. You must have been a carrier incubating it, until your children picked it up in the womb. You were experiencing second-hand symptoms. I’m sorry I didn’t pick it up sooner.”

“Is Captain Pike nearby?” asks Tilly. _This isn’t my fault,_ Michael thinks as Tilly asks, upset even while her mood swings to the more relieved, deadened side of her. _This isn’t my fault._

“His ship is enroute. Paul has already flown us nearby. He should only be an hour, at most.”

“Chris,” Michael murmurs. “He knows?”

Hugh nods. “He never hung up when Saru left with you. Nilsson transferred his call to Dr Pollard before you came in and I’d already briefed her on your condition. She told him you were most likely suffering a miscarriage and told him to call Saru again later. We got a memo from Admiral Cornwall asking us to meet the _Enterprise_ so Chris can come support you.”

“I didn’t tell him,” Michael says, burrowing into Tilly’s chest. “I was going to, but-”

“But nothing,” Tilly interrupts her, slightly scolding. “You were scared and _obviously_ , you had a damn right to be.”

“I wasn’t scared of a miscarriage,” Michael swallows the lump in her throat. “I thought it was inevitable. I wasn’t scared.”

“Mina is inevitable. Not your sons,” Hugh advises her gently. Michael heaves a surprised gasp. “I’ve put them in stasis, if you want to see them.”

“I- no, they aren’t-” Michael shakes her head again and again, Tilly hugging her close and muttering condolences into her hair. Hugh slips off and when he returns, there’s a slight jab to her neck and darkness overtakes her vision. Michael sleeps. On waking, Tilly is gone.

Chris holds her hand, sat in a chair by her bed. “Are you awake? I’ve asked you before, when I thought you were stirring, but…”

“I’m awake,” Michael murmurs. Her eyes prick with tears of shame. “Christopher, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You just went through something terrible,” Chris presses her knuckles to his lips, a firm kiss warming her heart enough for her grief to begin anew. “Never apologise. I won’t allow it.”

“They’re dead, our sons are _dead_ ,” Michael sobs and Chris shuffles closer to the bed, pressing against the sickbay bed as he draws her into his arms. Michael can’t stop crying – can’t stop _feeling_.

To no surprise, Sarek and Amanda arrive the next day.

“I know you’re her family, but there are too many people in my sickbay,” Hugh stops them at the door, hand raised. Spock is sat with Chris, the two men on either side of her and Michael wipes her face.

“ _Prah etwel ko-mekh. Var-tor sa-mekh_ ,” Michael says to Spock and her brother immediately leaves, talking quietly to the trio and leading their father away to explain. _Get our mother. Tell father._ Hugh walks sedately, but Amanda practically runs, Michael gladly taking her embrace.

“Michael, what happened?” she asks, so concerned. “Your father felt you pain and your grief. It battered through his shields. He all but fell to the floor.”

Michael shakes her head, not wanting to say it. Chris tentatively speaks in her stead.

“Madam Grayson, Michael lost a pregnancy.”

“And who are you?” Amanda asks, voice thick. “The father? I recognise you – Captain Pike, Spock’s commanding officer.”

“I am. My name is Christopher. Michael and I…it’s a long story.”

“One I’ll be privy to very soon, no doubt.”

“Mom,” Michael starts at her defensive tone. “Please. He’s a good man. Don’t- don’t-”

Amanda hugs her tighter, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Have you had a shower? It’s easier to clean off with water. I set up camp in our bathroom in ShiKahr so many times over the years when we were trying for Spock.”

Michael swallows at the reminder of blood between her thighs. Sonic showers are a no-go, as the waves just make everything hurt more. Sponge baths are her only option, here in sickbay. Pyeong, the interning nurse, has been helping her. She won’t ever be able to look the woman in the eye ever again.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Amanda says, before looking to Hugh. “She should go back to her quarters if there’s nothing to be done but heal.”

“I agree, but let’s leave that up to Michael,” Hugh says gently.

“I want to go,” Michael speaks up and he nods.

“Then, I’ll arrange for the corridors to be empty, unless…”

“Empty them,” Amanda orders, her tone brooking no discussion. Hugh’s lip quirks, before he bows his head slightly, turning away. Michael extricates her from her mother’s embrace, knowing there is something to be done.

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?” Amanda meets her eyes.

“You-” Michael starts, swallowing hard. “You put Spock’s siblings in the family mausoleum. Could- can-”

“Of course, darling,” Amanda says, voice a hush as she strokes Michael’s cheeks. “How far along were you?”

“Thirteen weeks, three days,” Michael admits, not looking at Chris, focusing on her mother’s silk blue scarf. “They were fraternal twins, according to Dr Culber.”

“That’s not something your family has a history of,” Amanda says carefully, though she still glances at Chris, anyway.

The three of them wait for Hugh to get back. Interns bring the wheelchair, holding absorbent towels and sheets to put on her bed and seated areas. The move is smooth – Spock and Sarek acting as honour guards at her back.

“Daughter, I grieve with thee,” Sarek intones in a gravelly voice, kneeling in front of her when they stop in her rooms, the nursing team and Dr Culber leaving with a last parting, _anything you need, we can help._

Her eyes prick, but Michael blinks the tears away, curling up under the blanket around her shoulders. “Thank-you for coming.”

“In these scenarios, Michael, I and your mother shall _always_ come – if you wish it.”

“I don’t know,” Michael says to his offer. “But still, thank-you for coming.”

“No doubt the crew all think you have a life-threatening disease,” Spock murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just Ensign Tilly. She has some very interesting theories.”

Michael lets out a short bark of laughter. “She has them running rings around her, huh? Did you ask her to do that?”

“No – she took initiative,” Spock says, sounding appreciative. Michael knows she is. “Dr Culber informed me that you are on mandatory leave for six weeks – eight, should you wish it. Such leave does not apply to Captain Pike.”

Chris shifts where he stands by her table, not to far but not close, either. Michael looks at him, not sure what he wants.

“You could come on the _Enterprise_ , if you want,” he offers her. “Take a break from _Discovery_ until you’re ready to come back.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “I would like that.”

Chris smiles at her – the first smile she’s seen since before she stopped watching his log-vids, the wide one that pulls at the wrinkles by his eyes and shows his teeth. His eyes are bright.

“I would like that, too.”

“It will be good to have you on board, Michael,” Spock adds. “Number One has been curious. As a member of my family and Captain Pike’s significant other, plus your past history in Starfleet, your personhood is mysterious and the subject of much talk aboard the _Enterprise_.”

“That’s our Michael,” Amanda cheers quietly, running a hand along her shoulder. “What do you want to do now, darling?”

“I’ll stay on _Discovery_ until the _Enterprise_ has to leave – then I’ll transfer over. For now…can we spend some time together. All of us?”

“Of course.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Michael.”

Chris hesitates. “Would you like me to stay?”

“Oh, you are _not_ leaving,” Sarek straightens, “I assure you of that, Captain Pike. My daughter’s suitor will be evaluated by my House and if you prove wanting…”

Michael can barely contain her laughter, though she knows he’s being serious. Michael knows Sarek’s opinion of Chris – she’s heard him admire him twice, before, when talking about Spock and his enlistment in Starfleet.

“Chris,” she gets his attention, smiling at his stiff shoulders. “Ignore my father. He’s being funny.”

“I am not,” Sarek argues. “If Captain Pike is unfit to be your partner, he shall not be allowed-”

“Shush, Sarek,” Amanda presses her hand to his arm.

Chris looks between Sarek and Michael, before saying, “If that’s him being funny, I’m terrified at what a threat looks like.”

* * *

They get married in front of a supernova.

On the United Starship _Enterprise_ , there is a deck full of botanical arrays – flowers, herbs, weeds, the occasional illegal vegetable patch and samples from newly-discovered planets, kept separate from the rest of the menagerie. There is also a long window spanning across the hull wall and it’s through that the crew sees the dying star.

“I would like to say, I disapprove of this,” Sarek intones from where he stands in front of them. He ties the cloth around their clasped hands, ignoring his wife’s chiding look from the sidelines. “But I wish you great tidings in your _kal’i’farr_ , in any case.”

“Thank-you, _sa-mekh_ ,” Michael murmurs, before Spock at her back intones the words, claiming Christopher Dorian Pike for the House of Sarek on behalf of his father. Behind Chris, his Number One gives him away, barely stumbling over the Ancient Golic, her words slow an measured – perfect as can be, when said by a Human.

The ceremony is little more than a handfasting and Michael isn’t ready to get married yet, not officially; but maybe this is what Mina meant when she said _it’s complicated._ It brings a certain peace to her mind, imagining that wedding legally and with all the fanfare involved will be her choice.

“Michael,” Chris starts, before they kiss. “I want you to know – I love you. I really, _really_ do. I want to do right by you and always make sure you’re happy in our relationship together. I want a family with you and I want that to be our choice – not a choice made for us by the universe. I love you. Are you happy?”

“I’m happy. I’m happy with you. I love you, too” she admits to him, wiping the stray tear from the corner of her eyes.

 _Maybe Mina **can** be the flower-girl at our wedding,_ she thinks as she cradles Chris’ face and kisses him, the binding cloth falling onto carpet beneath their knees. _I think I’d like that._

Chris and Michael return to their quarters – shared, here on the _Enterprise._ Michael has already made it known that he has a standing invitation to her own on _Discovery_ , as it wouldn’t surprise her if her took a guest room for ‘propriety’s sake’. Tilly won’t mind, that’s for sure.

“I don’t want to sleep tonight,” she says to him when the door is locked, dragging him over to their bed.

“Alright,” Chris replies, pulling up the waistband of her science blues – the pale kind, more in line with _Enterprise’_ s wardrobe than _Discovery_ ’s. Number One had laughed when Michael glared at the dresses on offer to a consulting female scientist. Michael makes quick work of her trousers in their room, lying back on top of the covers.

Chris undresses. He kneels over her, eyes scanning her figure, lingering at her mid-section. He kisses the week-old tattoo on her sternum, one that matches his own. Michael presses her hand to his one, the carefully entwined _‘A’_ and _‘L’_ shadowed under her fingers.

So, you don’t want to sleep…” Chris begins, dragging one of her legs up to bracket his hip.

“I want you to fuck me,” Michael states and Chris does as he’s told – he always does, when they’re together like this. “Don’t worry about hurting me.”

“My CMO said you were healed…” he murmurs, inclining his head as he presses a thumb _right there_. Michael sighs, pulling him down to kiss her as they rock on the bed.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you-”

On week nine after the deaths of their sons, Anton and Leonard Pike, Michael returns to the _U.S.S._ Discovery. She brings a pale blue science uniform with her in her bags and a length of dark red cloth that has been neatly sheared from it’s other half, that she keeps close together amongst her belongings.

Number One gets a hug goodbye, Spock a wordy quip about seeing him again sooner than the last time they were separated and Chris, a kiss in front of the entire _Enterprise_ bridge. Michael will keep the memory of his pink face as a happy memory for her to enjoy.

Mina Brielle is born two years later, part of another set of twins. Her compliment is Georgia Naiche and they’re born in an escape pod in the middle of a battle against the Borg – the smallest of remnants of Control’s presence, turned into a species of their own. Like with Anton and Leonard, their initials are tattooed on their parents’ chests.

Gabrielle Burnham looks as if she’ll cry when Mina is cradled against her chest. The woman she’ll grow up to be one day will find her grandmother and save her – sending her back when Michael needs her most, when she’s alone in a pod in the middle of space, her screams going unheard as she pushes two beautiful, dark-skinned babies out into the world.

“You’re going to be brilliant, one day,” Gabrielle tells her eldest living grandchild and Michael looks at Georgia, named for a captain who died on a Klingon ship and says the same thing.

If Mina is going to have the bravery to do what has already been done, then Michael will damn make sure that Georgia does, too.

Chris cries, of course. They take familial leave for three years when the twins are four months old and the Borg held back, for now, travelling to Vulcan to visit Michael’s family, then going on to Earth. The Pike’s are boisterous, many and loud, after so many years in space and Chris’ nieces and nephews are danger-prone. Sometimes, Michael flinches at the sight of blood on their knees and Philippa – who had taken up residence in the Pike household without permission at some point and hadn’t been asked to leave yet – asks her why.

“The first Michael didn’t even flinch,” she says, eyes distant. Michael recalls when that used to be _my Michael_ and she smiles, slightly.

“Unless she and Lorca really had something going on like Chris and I, I doubt she had a miscarriage to bring them together.”

Philippa’s eyes snap to hers and when Georgia and Mina are two, Chris and Michael name their son Philip Romano. There comes a time when the former Emperor leaves Section 31, joining the elder Pike’s in their California home and sip cocktails at sundown with Willa, using her only working arm to hold her glass.

Christopher stays behind with their teenage children when Michael goes out into the stars again. They’d resigned their commissions long ago, but she wanted that taste again, that little bit of adventure and the great unknown. Michael returns long before _Discovery’_ s long-haul mission begins, though – happy in the knowledge that Saru will remain a captain until the end of his long, long life upon the newly-rebuilt U.S.S. _Shenzhou_ and that Tilly will go on to explore the depths of time, space and the multiverse as captain of the U.S.S. _Discovery,_ a loyal crew by her side.

“She’ll boldly go where none have gone before,” Chris jokes, Michael laughing.

“Did you steal that line from Kirk?”

“If I did, he’ll never know,” Chris says, kissing her. Michael runs her hand across his jaw – feeling the gorgeous stubble that Commander Mina Pike had been surprised to see gone.

 _Full circle._ Michael thinks with a smile as Georgia bursts into the room with long braids tied with Engineering red the same way Mina’s are tied with Command gold and exclaims, “Mina stole Grandma’s time suit!”

Chris and Michael look each other in the eyes and smile.

_Full circle._

**Author's Note:**

> [ come say hi on tumblr ](https://wearethewitches.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
>  
> 
> [star trek: discovery discord](https://discord.gg/uaGJqhH)


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